Tula Pink

SO it’s that time again. It seems like only yesterday…International Quilt Market is in a few weeks which means little hotel shampoos,  the rekindling of bi-annual friendships, tons of fabric envy and some petty theft in the form of mini soaps and plastic shower caps (I love those things). I have been sewing like crazy and I’m pretty excited about my quilt for the Moda booth. My quilter friend, Angela, is going to do some really amazing stuff with it. She’s a genius, an artist, a genius-artist. I am told there will be some artsy stuff going on in there. I let her do what ever she wants because she always comes up with something I never would have considered. I guess that’s why she is the quilter and I’m not.

The first quilt I make with a new line of fabric is always my favorite. The quilt becomes the physical memory of first working the collection. It’s like falling in love, everything seems crucial and dire. I remember every moment, every stitch. When my seams don’t line up it hurts my heart. It’s like getting to “know” the fabric, I discover new combinations that I didn’t see before. If the quilt would bring me flowers and change the oil in my car it would be like the best boyfriend ever. I mean, it does like to cuddle.

There is always work to do. I hope y’all have noticed that I have been making an effort to keep up with my blog. I believe this makes three weeks in a row, a personal record for a self absorbed lazy bum like me, YAY!

So I would like to introduce you to the first sketch in my new line due out eons from now. Seriously, I think it’s something like three light years away. It’s always like this. It seems so far away from having fabric in my greedy little hands that I can barely stand it. Then it’s here, I have a couple of weeks to make some samples and boom! it’s all over and the next deadline approaches like it’s running from a three headed chicken. I wouldn’t trade it for anything but it still makes the day to day stuff a little hard to keep up with. Things like laundry just pale in comparison and I end up suck in a “where’s the beef” t-shirt and a pair of bermuda shorts. It could be worse.